


Algae and the Properties of Coffins

by wearethewitches



Series: Glory is worth nothing, young man. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, Life Debt, Pre-Canon, Severus Snape is So Done, Young Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: Severus was just collecting frogs, like the fucking weirdo he is.Then Lily had to show up.
Relationships: Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Glory is worth nothing, young man. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891441
Comments: 1
Kudos: 96





	Algae and the Properties of Coffins

_Croak. Crooo-ooak!_

A hand darts out from beneath the water, sending large ripples through the pond as it grabs the bulbous, yellow frog, just before it turns green again. In the safety of a bubble-head charm, breathing in the same, stuffy air that he has been for over an hour, now, Severus Snape squeezes the wretched thing triumphantly, trapping it in the nearby jar. Flies and insects had already flown in – the frog wouldn’t starve, while they travelled – and from being briefly out of camouflage, Severus knows for sure that this frog was the one he was looking for.

Wading out of the pond, green trousers soaked in mud and pond-scum, the potions master heads back to his tidy camp nearby, satchel hung from the branch of an oak and charmed against predators and sticky fingers. But when Severus tugs it off, hauling the bag onto his shoulder so he can place the jarred frog inside, he feels the familiar itch of a presence just off the edge of his wards.

“…who goes there?” He calls out, wand gripped tightly in hand. Squeezing around the base, nervous, Severus warns them, “I’ll curse first and ask questions later, if you do not reveal yourself!”

“Wow,” says a familiar voice, sarcasm obvious as they step out of the shadows. Lily, flaming red hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall, has her arms crossed and her wand in hand despite this, levitating a long, flat crate that honestly looks like a repurposed coffin. “I feel so _afraid_.”

“Lily.” His wand lowers immediately, but Severus is far from happy to see her. “What do you want?”

“I’m here about James’ life-debt,” she replies, a little more cautious as she meets his eyes, green boring into blue. The familiar emerald is as vibrant as Severus’ eyes are dark and he can’t help but tense at the idea of Potter needing the life-debt fulfilled. “It’ll help you as much as it helps James, if that makes it any better.”

“Spit it out,” he snaps.

Her arms uncross and the coffin levitates over to him, dropping lightly at his feet. “Take this into the Mythical Forest.” She raises her chin, as if daring him to say no. “Safe-guard the contents for seven years.”

“Seven years-” Severus begins, outraged, but Lily interrupts him.

“Or thirteen years. Or sixteen, or nineteen, or twenty-five, or fifty-five,” she stops, peering at him with a thin smile. “Your choice, Sev. The Mythical Forest doesn’t let you leave except on the magical anniversaries of your arrival, remember? We did that project on it, back in Arithmancy-”

“Fourth year, I remember.” The potions master scowls, looking at the box. He feels the urge to kick it, so he does. Lily doesn’t flinch, but she also won’t even look at it, anymore. Severus wants to open it up and he makes to do so, wand at the ready, only for Lily to make a noise of distress.

When he looks up again, he sees her face – eyes wide in fear, hand clamped over her mouth as if to stop herself from speaking. Severus tilts his head. Lily drags that hand down, fingers tangling in her hair – it’s longer than she’s used to, he knows. Lily never had her hair any longer than her shoulders, until leaving Hogwarts.

“What,” he begins, “is in the box?”

“You can open it in the Forest, but not before,” Lily instructs, regaining some of her composure. “This is your debt: will you fulfil it?”

“I have no choice,” Severus scoffs, though his mind is slowly revolting at the idea. The war is ongoing and the Dark Lord will be furious if Severus goes missing; he told him the prophecy and it has made him something of an obsession on the Dark Lord’s part, trying to figure out if he’s a loyal Death Eater or a spy. With that in mind, he asks, “When do I have to leave?”

“The stasis charms will fail in less than three hours,” Lily informs him, immediately narrowing his window to leave. “You _have_ to be in the Forest before they collapse. The enchantments on the box will fold in on themselves in a cascade, leaving the specimens inside fatally vulnerable.”

_Specimens?_

“Are you giving me potions ingredients?” Severus questions, suddenly eager to unravel this newest mystery. “Is part of this box specifically for me?”

“Yes,” Lily says, though there’s a touch of amusement that Severus isn’t sure how to judge. The witch looks at a watch on her wrist, gnashing her jaw. “I have to go. Also, there’s some memories of yours in there that you might want to reabsorb into that thick head of yours. All my love, Sev.”

“What the fuck are you on about, Lily?”

The redhead gives him one last wave, before apparating away. Severus stares at the space she left behind, then looks down at the box.

“…the nearest entrance is in Mulberry,” he mutters to himself. “I hate Mulberry.”

The coffin is fucking heavy, but Severus transports it using an illegal, make-shift portkey to his decrepit house in Cokeworth, depositing it in his hallway as he begins vanishing half his belongings. If the Dark Lord wins the war, Severus will never return to this place and even wards can only do some much against determined muggle squatters – he’ll be away long enough that they’ll degrade to the point of uselessness. The true travesty is his potions a-go in the kitchen, some of which dislike being disposed of in his shitty little garden, utterly destroying the weed-filled grasses in their vengeance.

Uncaring of the mud he’s trudged in over the carpets, Severus takes half an hour to pack away his private library into the only expanded trunk he has – his Hogwarts one, the paper label peeling to reveal a tarnished engraving of his mother’s name. To his own credit, stripping away what little belongings he has until the house is bare to the bones only takes a combined hour and ten minutes, but the life-debt is already squeezing around his heart uncomfortably.

_Mulberry,_ he thinks queasily, before stepping outside with both his trunk and the coffin. When on the bare street, he surreptitiously flicks his wand, closing his eyes as he attempts to draw in all the magic that has ever sunk its way into the house. For a moment, when he finally manages to grasp it firmly, Severus is surprised at just how much _power_ rests inside his awful, outdated childhood home.

But then he takes it into himself and by the end of it, the house seems ready to collapse, the roof sagging and the wood frames of the doors and windows swollen and stuck fast. Severus also can’t feel his fingers, but that’s neither here nor there.

Again, the life-debt squeezes tight, robbing him of breath as he jerks in pain. Without thinking much of it, Severus apparates straight to the edge of Mulberry Gate.

To the sights of muggles, Mulberry Gate is deceptively calm meadow, currently blooming with various summer flowers and grasses. To witches and wizards – and right now, especially to one Severus Snape – it is an area heavily saturated in magic, that makes one either run to the hills or get drawn deep into its devices.

Lily ran. Severus remembers how they tied their wrists together with a band of cloth, tugging each other in opposing directions – Severus attempting to discover all of nature’s mysteries and Lily terrified of what the world promised.

With so many magics at work, such as the life-debt drawing him here, the Dark Mark on his arm writhing in discomfort at such a betrayal of his Lord and Master and the ambient magic he’d pulled unto himself from his house in Spinner’s End, Severus feels acutely dizzy, which he hates. The coffin and his trunk float along behind him as he stumbles through the meadow, tripping over rocks and holes, burrowed into the ground.

Before he even makes it a metre into the meadow, Severus steps into a forest.

_I’m here._

The toll of travelling is instantaneous and Severus is glad he had so much extra magic to hand, feeling the bond to the Dark Lord _snap_ at such a distance, absorbed along with his price. If Severus spends enough years here, the Mark won’t even reform when he returns, the magics washed away by the abundance of Mythical Magic.

However, the Mythical Forest doesn’t just take from _him_ – something he detects after a minute of staring through the gaps between trees. The coffin, previously in stasis and most importantly, _silent,_ starts making noises.

_Suspicious_ sorts of noises.

Heart in his throat, Severus slowly turns to face the mystery crate, ridiculous theories already forming in his mind. _A coffin to represent death,_ he thinks, raising his wand to take off the lid, only for his intentions to be realised without it, the wooden lid pulling out the iron-nails and revealing the coffin’s contents.

The noise quiets and Severus can see a faint silver gleam of a vial, set upon a velvet blanket. Unfortunately for Severus, beneath said velvet blanket is a child – a child that looks at Severus and reveals to him familiar green irises that he knows from Lily and Lily alone.

“Fuck.”

And then, Violet Potter starts to wail once more.


End file.
